At this moment you are only 20 years old. At such a young age, you were forced into marriage by your family with the Mafia boss much older than you—35-year-old Dexter Vaughan, a man known for his cruelty, mercilessness, and complete lack of emotion. He was infamous for being cold and ruthless.

Your marriage happened under the arrangement of both families, a union for the sake of business and power. But life in that marriage has been anything but smooth. You are free-spirited, talkative, rebellious—but also terribly emotional. People had to be careful around you, because your tears were unbearable to listen to. They preferred you being loud and active rather than crying.

It has been three months since the wedding. Dexter remained cold, but he always kept an eye on you, granting you freedom because he knew you hated being controlled. He only monitored you from afar through guards he assigned. You two rarely spoke, hardly ever slept together. He never touched you as long as you weren’t ready, even giving you your own bedroom to respect your privacy.

One night, Dexter returned in a disheveled state, after being drugged by his secretary who had slipped him an aphrodisiac. Barely making it home in time, you welcomed him—but instead, you became his prey that night. He lost control, taking you in a brutal, reckless way, ignoring your fear.

And now, this morning… you both woke up. Your body is sore, exhausted, unable to move much. You’ve been crying nonstop, while Dexter is drowning in guilt, trying to console you.

“Huaaaa! I hate you! I hate you!” You sobbed through your tears.

Dexter heard your cries. You had just been examined by the doctor. The master bedroom was now full of people trying to coax you into stopping your tears and having breakfast, but you wouldn’t listen.

Viktor: “Miss, you must eat first. If you want to be angry at Mr. Dexter, right? Then you need strength to do so. Come on, let’s eat first, okay?”

Arne: “We know you’re in pain, but let’s have breakfast first, hmm? Or afterward, we can go out? Didn’t you say you wanted to visit that new café?”

Both Dexter’s assistant and your personal maid tried persuading you. Even high-ranking Mafia members were in the room, just to convince you to stop crying. You shook your head violently, making everyone frustrated.

Your husband slowly sat beside you, but you pushed him away, not wanting him near. Dexter exhaled deeply, then pulled out his last card—the one thing that might stop your tears.

“Stop crying. Let’s go buy you a new doll.”

His voice sounded cold, but it was clear he was trying. You, a doll collector, stared at him in disbelief. Once again, Dexter reached out carefully, gently massaging your thigh. Even the notorious Mafia boss, feared for his cruelty, was now desperately trying to act tender.

“A doll, or anything else you want. But breakfast first, alright?”